Page 71 of The Tracker's Revenge
I took another deep breath, trying to gather courage from the air. I found none, of course, and had to rely on my own wavering inner strength. Maybe one day, when I grew up, I would measure up to my best friend.
“Let’s do it.” I threw the door open and got out of the car.
“You look great.” Rosalina winked as we made our way to the front door.
I smiled. “I learned from the best.”
Her compliment boosted my confidence a little. I was wearing a knee-length black dress with an elegantly pleated skirt and lace short sleeves. For my makeup, I’d used a few of the techniques Rosalina had shown me, and I managed to masterfully conceal the purple circles under my eyes—4 AM training sessions with obsessed werewolves didn’t help a girl look her best. Then a bit of bronzer and highlight powder on my cheeks graduated me from zombie to attractive young woman.
Two men dressed in black suits and ties stood at either side of the door. They stared straight ahead, unblinking. They didn’t glance in our direction as we entered and were the first hint of the somber air we would encounter inside.
We walked shoulder to shoulder down the carpeted hall and entered a large room arranged with rows of chairs to the left and right in front of a casket surrounded by massive floral arrangements. I was shocked by the heavy silence despite the large number of people occupying the room. Barely anyone spoke, and those who did whispered so softly that not even werewolf ears could catch what they were saying.
Several heads turned in our direction. Noses twitched taking in our scent. Distrust quickly shaped their features as they failed to recognize us. We were newcomers, a Stale and an unknown werewolf. At least, I was succeeding at controlling my alpha vibes. I’d been practicing with Eric. Displaying my dominance here wouldn’t only be bad but completely inappropriate.
Their attention quickly moved away, though it came back every few beats, assessing, distrustful. Werewolves weren’t quick to trust. And if this were anything but a funeral, I would expect more than glares.
“There’s a couple of chairs over there,” Rosalina pointed to the last row.
Perfect, I thought as we moved in that direction, walking behind the row of chairs and letting my eyes rove over the crowd, searching for Jake, but he wasn’t here.
Just as we were about to reach the end of the line, two people appeared from a door we hadn’t noticed and started to sit in the empty chairs. And it would’ve been all right by me—they hadn’t seen us coming—except they turned out to be Olivia and Marcus Hillworth, and without rhyme or reason, their presence made my anger reach volcanic proportions in a split second. It was an irrational reaction, but I seemed to have no control over it.
I was about to say something that I would’ve probably regretted for the rest of my life when Olivia looked up and noticed us.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t notice you, Toni. My apologies. We’ll find somewhere else to sit. C’mon on.” She gestured to her brother and they were off.
My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. And my anger? Well, it fizzled out like air leaking from a worn-out balloon.
“Was that your... um?” Rosalina said.
I nodded and took a seat, a jumble of confusing feelings crowding my chest.Thathadn’t been the same woman I met yesterday, and if she hadn’t used my name, I would’ve guessed she hadn’t recognized me. It seemed she did know how to be nice, if only because she was at a funeral.
After we’d been sitting in silence for a few minutes, Jake came in through a door in the front of the room, Allison at his side. He wore a black suit, tailored to perfection while Allison wore a white, form-fitting dress with a tie neck.
My stomach clenched at the sight of them together. They passed the casket without looking in its direction and stood off to the side.
Taking this as a signal, the people sitting in the front stood to shake Jake’s hand and whisper their condolences. Soon, as more people stood up, a line formed, everyone waiting their turn to offer their sympathy.
Jake kept a tall, dignified posture, shaking hands and nodding politely. I watched him, every twitch of his face, every forced smile, and knew this was very hard for him. I wanted to be by his side, holding his hand in mine and offering my support. But instead, it was Allison, flashing her white teeth in an exaggerated smile as if she were a hostess at a party.
Didn’t she understand that this must be awful for Jake? Not only because his only close relative was dead, but because he’d gone through something as tragic with his father, mother, and brother. Did she realize the painful memories this must be unleashing inside his heart?
When the line was reduced to a trickle—people were steadily filing out of the room into an adjacent area—Rosalina patted my hand.
“I’ll go pay my respects. You don’t have to go. You can stay here.” Her green eyes were kind and told me it would be all right if I stayed, but I knew I had to go. For Jake.
“I’m coming.”
We stood and joined the back of the line. Jake didn’t notice me until I was standing right in front of him. He blinked and his silver eyes lost their dull quality.
“Toni!” He seized my offered hand as if it were a lifeline, as if I could rescue him from this.
I felt the loneliness rolling off of him in waves. He was forced to endure this, surrounded by people he hardly knew. It wasn’t right. He held on to me for longer than was polite, our gazes locked, saying so much.
Jake, I’m sorry. I wish I could be by your side.
Please don’t go, Toni. I need you.
